


as the snow falls

by erzi



Category: ACCA13区監察課 | ACCA 13-ku Kansatsuka
Genre: M/M, chicken noodle soup for the ninojean soul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 17:03:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13058331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erzi/pseuds/erzi
Summary: Silence settles between them again as their quiet laughter subsides. And Jean realizes Nino's arm is still steady around him. He hasn't taken another drink of his coffee yet feels a pooling warmth, from chest to stomach.





	as the snow falls

Whispers of winter weave through Badon, bringing with them the cold, and taking away the city's colors. Desaturated mornings turn to afternoons turn to nights, blending seamlessly into each other day after day.

"The year's flown by," Jean says, tugging his scarf closer to his neck.

Nino, walking next to him, hums in agreement. "Time seems to speed up the older you get."

Jean playfully nudges him with his elbow. "You would know."

"I would," Nino laughs, the sound carrying easily in the quiet morning.

There are few people outside this early. In between the buildings reaching for the pale cloudless sky, in those moments where they don't pass others in the streets, Jean almost thinks there's no one but him and Nino.

"Are we almost there?" Nino asks.

"Hm? Yes," Jean says, blinking himself from his thoughts, reading the street name. "Around this corner, third building down."

"I'll be upset if the food's not as good as you said it was," Nino says, in a tone that indicates he wouldn't be, really.

"I would never lie to you about the quality of a restaurant's food."

Nino takes a few brisk steps to get in front of Jean. He turns, smirking. "But you would on other things?"

Jean rolls his eyes goodnaturedly. "No."

They pass the first building, then the second.

They stop in front of the third. Its windows are dark.

"Are... they not open?" Jean says. He gets close to the window, squinting to see inside. There really is no one there. "I checked online; they should have opened an hour ago."

"I think you looked at the wrong day," Nino says. "Look, their hours are painted on the door. They open at 7 on Saturday, but not at all on Sunday."

"Oh."

"'Oh'?" Nino repeats, eyeing Jean over his sunglasses, wearing his 'what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you' smile.

Jean stuffs his hands further into his coat's pockets, embarrassed. "Do you know anywhere else we could have breakfast that's nearby?"

"No, but I can look it up."

"Please."

Nino taps quickly on his phone. "Seems like seven more blocks down there's a place," he says. "Want to check it out?"

"Sure." He shivers. "I'm cold, and the sooner we're inside a building and I have a coffee the better."

"You don't have to wait that long." Nino points across the street. "There's a coffee shop diagonal from us."

"If you don't mind?"

Nino smiles. "Why would I? Come on."

Jean smiles back. Why would he, indeed.

They cross the street. Nino holds the coffee shop's door open for Jean, who pauses. "We could have a bite here, if you want," he offers. Although he personally doesn't, if it's what Nino wants, then it's alright.

"I want a little more food than a pastry not even half the size of my hand."

Jean chuckles. "Me too."

He gets his coffee and they're soon on their way. Jean quietly drinks it, letting his eyes wander before they fall on Nino, always beside him, always in black, always with his glasses.

"The sun's not out. Why are you wearing sunglasses?" Jean asks, amused. Fond.

"It's still kind of bright."

"Enough for sunglasses?"

"The forecast called for a small chance of snow, and it gets brighter then. Also, they make me look cool." Nino removes them, twisting them between his fingers. "Don't you think?"

Jean doesn't answer, hiding a smile with a sip of his coffee.

"I'll take your lack of response as annoyed agreement."

There is a minute's lull in the conversation before Jean remembers he hasn't apologized yet for his mistake. "Sorry for making us walk all this way for nothing."

"It's okay, don't worry about it." Nino smirks. "But next time, tell me where we're headed," he says, right arm casually draping over Jean's shoulder, "and I can double-check they're _actually_ open."

"Oh, because _you_ never make any mistakes," Jean says, tilting his head toward him with a grin.

"Never."

Silence settles between them again as their quiet laughter subsides. And Jean realizes Nino's arm is still steady around him. He hasn't taken another drink of his coffee yet feels a pooling warmth, from chest to stomach.

 _Did Nino forget_ _to remove his arm_ _or something?_ Jean thinks. It would be odd, but it's Nino. Not that Jean minds. At least for a few blocks, he can pretend they're something else. He almost leans into Nino but stops himself in time, hoping Nino didn't notice.

 _Don't get carried away_ , he chides himself.

"We're here," Nino says, turning to Jean.

If Jean had blinked, he would have missed the fleeting flash of panic in Nino's eyes, and might have questioned why Nino's arm stiffened before falling quickly off him.

But Jean doesn't blink. He sees, and something catches in his throat. He tugs his scarf again, although it's on just fine. "Right."

With the hour being so early, and the day being Sunday, they are seated right away in a window-side booth. A waitress gives them the menus and tells them she'll be back when they're ready to order.

Nino unties his scarf, placing it next to him, and puts his glasses over his head. "Well, we're warm now," he says.

Jean undoes his own scarf, giving Nino a small smile, unsure what to make of what had happened.

His worry goes away, though, forgotten in refinding how he and Nino function. Being with him is comfortable; it always has been. Years and years of this. How many more did they have left?

 _Every_ _last_ _year_ _in my life._ Jean is more sure of it than anything. It's a promise to himself. It's a promise to Nino, even if he doesn't tell him.  _But to him_ , he thinks, watching Nino thank the waitress as she places their plates on the table, _it's probably a given_.

Something lightly kicks Jean's leg.

"Sorry," Nino says. "The seats are close together."

Jean bumps him back. "I think you're just too tall for them."

"Maybe the rest of you are too short."

"Sorry we can't all be your height, Nino."

He chuckles.

They always tease each other for having no other friends. But do they need anyone else?

"Hey, it's snowing," Nino says.

Jean looks out the window. The snow is light and has not fallen long; there are only patches of it on the pavement, so there is more gray than white. It's lovely all the same. It will cover the city soon, white over the subdued shades of metal, concrete, glass, wood. He turns back to Nino, smiling. "Guess you'll actually need your sunglasses."

"I always need them," Nino replies. "Remember, cool factor."

Jean bumps his leg again.

The two of them, like this: in easy conversation when there is something to be said, in companionable silence when there isn't.

They eat at a leisurely pace. For Jean, part of it is to stay outside the cold for a while. Mostly, of course, it's to spend as much time with Nino as he can.

Jean makes sure his scarf is on right before they leave the restaurant, preparing himself for the chill. The cold air seeps into his bones regardless, and only more so the further they walk. In his pockets, Jean rubs his thumbs over his hands, balled into fists in an attempt to keep warm.

"I should have probably brought gloves, too," Nino mumbles next to him.

"Are you-" He sees Nino had only carelessly thrown his scarf back on. _No wonder he's cold_. "Here, let's stop a moment."

"Why?" Nino asks, but does anyway. With his head, he motions to the building on their right. "You want to admire the church?"

"Your scarf." Jean grabs the fabric, as soft as the snowflakes that land on them, and wraps it around Nino. It goes once. Twice. Next is the knot. Jean fumbles a little: from the cold, from having to do this backwards, from the dizzying closeness. He does get it, fingers holding the knot in place as he pulls on the scarf to tighten it. It pulls Nino too, just a bit, enough that his hair tickles Jean's forehead.

There, the knot is done. But Jean's hands still linger on Nino's scarf. But Nino's still leaning forward.

Jean's eyes flicker to Nino's mouth, parted in a word unspoken. _I_ _could kiss him right now_ , he thinks, his heart speeding up. It beats so madly he feels the pulse in the tips of each finger, lightly pressed against Nino. _Can Nino feel my heartbeat, too?_   he wonders. His eyes move up to Nino's own, hidden behind his sunglasses. 

The church bells ring, breaking through the morning, startling both of them. How quickly Jean steps back, a muttered apology swallowed up by the deep tolls of the bells. How quickly a hand wraps around his wrist, not willing to let him go.

Nino's mouth moves, voice also lost in that sonorous song amid the snow. He says one syllable, but Jean doesn't need to hear it to know what it was; the shape of his name on Nino is too familiar. Nino pushes his sunglasses to the top of his head, and his gaze is a mirror, reflecting back each and every feeling Jean has toward him.

Lids flutter to a close, and so does the distance between them, lips seeking each other. Finding them. Wanting them. Having them. Nino's hold on Jean's wrist relaxes, his fingers curling perfectly into the nooks in Jean's hand. Jean's free hand reaches for Nino's face, holding it reverently.

The sound of the bells is just for them. Like everything, they come to an end, the final note reverberating as it fades. So too does Jean and Nino's kiss slow as they unhurriedly pull apart.

"Your ears are red," Nino murmurs, a smile in his voice.

Jean rests his cheek on Nino's chest, half-hiding his own smile. "Is that really the first thing you're going to say to me?"

"It was the first thing I could think of that wasn't entirely embarrassing."

"Hmm." He shifts his head so he's looking up at Nino. "If you should know, my ears are red because, like I said earlier, I'm cold. And, um. Well."

"Do you want to go to the park and maybe... talk?" Nino offers.

Jean feels dizzy all over, but in a good way. "Yes."

Their hands are still clasped. The snow still falls.

There are more people in the park than the streets, it turns out, but it is so large they find a place they can be alone. The accumulated snow is disturbed by their soundless footsteps. Neither of them say anything at first, hoping the other speaks up. This is unknown territory they've entered. What is next?

"I-" Jean starts, and stops. Further words feel clumsy on his tongue.

"Have you been wanting to do that for a while?" Nino asks, dusting snow off a bench before sitting on it.

Jean follows suit. "Do what?"

Nino gives him a 'come on now' look, though not without affection.

"Oh. You mean kissing you." He runs a hand through his hair, smiling bashfully. "Yeah. You could tell?"

"Only because I've felt the same toward you for some time now."

"Occasionally, I thought you might," Jean says, eyes on the snowy, leafless branches of the trees ahead. "But I could never be sure if it was really there, or if it was wishful thinking. So I didn't do anything." He exhales, breath puffing in the cold. "I didn't want to upset what we already had."

"That was always my thought process, too."

"Then I think we're both kind of dumb."

They share a glance and laugh, softly.

"You were flirting with me today, weren't you?" Jean says.

Nino smiles. "Not just today. But yes."

"I didn't know what to do when you put your arm on me."

"Ah." Nino purses his lips. "That. I forgot myself."

Jean lightly kicks the snow in front of him. "It was nice. I almost forgot myself, too."

Nino's arm, snug and warm, draws Jean in. "How's that?"

Now Jean lets himself lean into him, sighing in comfort. "Very nice."

Once more, a pensive silence.

"So," Nino says. "I owe you a first date."

Jean cranes his head up. "You don't consider today one?"

"We got breakfast, like usual."

"Maybe all of _those_  breakfasts were dates," Jean says, smiling.

"Were they now?"

"You have to admit they were, at least a little."

"Alright, so for our first _intentional_ date," Nino says, his laugh contagious, "where do you want to go?"

Jean hardly needs to think it over. "We go out to eat the next day we're both free, like all those other times."

"I thought you'd say that."

"For the time being, though," Jean continues, "let's go home. I'm still cold, and Lotta bought gourmet hot chocolate yesterday. We need to try it."

It's an invitation to continue spending the day with each other. Nino understands it, eyes crinkling from a smile. "I'd like that a lot." He stands, offering Jean his hand.

Jean takes it, memorizing how their hands fit together.

It's no longer snowing, but the city remains blanketed in white.

**Author's Note:**

> school's out ninojean's out
> 
> based off that sweet sweet [official art](https://twitter.com/xxxy4217/status/932787022053359616) from the 2018 calendar where they're having a gay old time


End file.
